nosing through seaweed and flotsam. The Freyhellans paid scant attention to the strangers among them, or else delivered the occasional expressionless glance. Loki felt uncomfortable. He sensed they weren’t welcome in this place, in which case, why had they been invited?
Raven ignored the less than companionable emanations from the locals and took Loki down to the shoreline. ‘In this place,’ he said, ‘your huri Mima was thrown from a ship. She and her friends washed up here.’
Loki shivered. ‘It’s such a cold damp place. It doesn’t seem very magical now. Were the hara rude to Mima too?’
Raven laughed softly. ‘I don’t believe so. It was long ago. This is all about politics, Loki. The convoluted web of relations between tribes. The Freyhellans are suspicious of us, because we are powerful. In situations like these, we are courteous and reserved. We observe local customs. We are patient.’
‘I understand,’ Loki said. He wanted more than anything to be a good ambassador for his tribe.
‘I wasn’t always Gelaming,’ Raven said, ‘so I appreciate how others feel sometimes. It is up to us to allay their fears, to be respectful. Project that intention, and you’ll find that eventually hara warm to you.’
‘I will.’
They walked towards the headland, where the black cliffs were pocked with caves. A few harlings were sitting on the sand outside one of the caves, having built a fire. They were frying shrimp in butter, a battered old skillet placed right on the flames. Raven went up to them, and Loki followed, trying to project respect.
‘Smells good,’ Raven said.
The harlings all stared at Raven, in a manner so outrageously without manners that Loki squirmed in embarrassment for them.
‘We’re visitors,’ Raven said, ‘from the south.’ He hunkered down among them.
One of the harlings reached out and briefly touched one of Raven’s hands.
‘You’re Gelaming,’ said another in a strongly accented voice.
‘Yes,’ Raven said. ‘We are.’
‘Why is your skin painted that way?’
Raven laughed. ‘It isn’t. It’s made that way. It helps me be attuned to strange things. Have you seen any strange things around here?’
One of the harlings poked at the shrimp in the skillet with a charred wooden spoon. The others exchanged glances. Then the one who had first spoken said, ‘They can’t understand you. They don’t speak your language.’
‘How come you do?’
‘My father was from the south. I speak both tongues.’
‘Useful,’ Raven said. ‘So, is there anything you can tell me about what’s going on here?’
‘You mean, like the spirit window?’
‘Yes,’ Raven said, ‘like that. I’d like to see it.’
‘We’re not supposed to go there now. It’s unstable, they said.’
‘Can you tell me where it is?’
Loki could tell, from Raven’s tone and posture, that he had slipped into Hegemony officer mode. He was determined to get some information.
‘You shouldn’t go,’ said the Freyhellan harling. ‘Things can come out of it.’
‘But I have my magical skin to protect me.’
The harling regarded Raven with some scorn. It seemed he believed Raven was mocking him.
‘That was a joke,’ Raven said. ‘But even so, I’m more than capable of protecting myself.’ He reached into a pocket and pulled out a glittering Almagabran coin. ‘You can have this if you show me the spirit window.’
‘All right,’ said the harling, getting to his feet.
‘Thanks.’ Raven helped himself to a shrimp before standing up.
The harling led them along the cliffs to where a path snaked upwards between brittle, salt-bleached shrubs. Raven asked the harling his name and received the short reply: ‘Taldri.’
The Freyhellan ran up the almost vertical path, Raven and Loki struggling to keep up. At the top, Taldri stood with hands on hips to wait for them. ‘It’s back here,’ he said. ‘Not far. It came where the water spout rises.’
The top of the cliffs was a
Raven ignored the less than companionable emanations from the locals and took Loki down to the shoreline. ‘In this place,’ he said, ‘your huri Mima was thrown from a ship. She and her friends washed up here.’
Loki shivered. ‘It’s such a cold damp place. It doesn’t seem very magical now. Were the hara rude to Mima too?’
Raven laughed softly. ‘I don’t believe so. It was long ago. This is all about politics, Loki. The convoluted web of relations between tribes. The Freyhellans are suspicious of us, because we are powerful. In situations like these, we are courteous and reserved. We observe local customs. We are patient.’
‘I understand,’ Loki said. He wanted more than anything to be a good ambassador for his tribe.
‘I wasn’t always Gelaming,’ Raven said, ‘so I appreciate how others feel sometimes. It is up to us to allay their fears, to be respectful. Project that intention, and you’ll find that eventually hara warm to you.’
‘I will.’
They walked towards the headland, where the black cliffs were pocked with caves. A few harlings were sitting on the sand outside one of the caves, having built a fire. They were frying shrimp in butter, a battered old skillet placed right on the flames. Raven went up to them, and Loki followed, trying to project respect.
‘Smells good,’ Raven said.
The harlings all stared at Raven, in a manner so outrageously without manners that Loki squirmed in embarrassment for them.
‘We’re visitors,’ Raven said, ‘from the south.’ He hunkered down among them.
One of the harlings reached out and briefly touched one of Raven’s hands.
‘You’re Gelaming,’ said another in a strongly accented voice.
‘Yes,’ Raven said. ‘We are.’
‘Why is your skin painted that way?’
Raven laughed. ‘It isn’t. It’s made that way. It helps me be attuned to strange things. Have you seen any strange things around here?’
One of the harlings poked at the shrimp in the skillet with a charred wooden spoon. The others exchanged glances. Then the one who had first spoken said, ‘They can’t understand you. They don’t speak your language.’
‘How come you do?’
‘My father was from the south. I speak both tongues.’
‘Useful,’ Raven said. ‘So, is there anything you can tell me about what’s going on here?’
‘You mean, like the spirit window?’
‘Yes,’ Raven said, ‘like that. I’d like to see it.’
‘We’re not supposed to go there now. It’s unstable, they said.’
‘Can you tell me where it is?’
Loki could tell, from Raven’s tone and posture, that he had slipped into Hegemony officer mode. He was determined to get some information.
‘You shouldn’t go,’ said the Freyhellan harling. ‘Things can come out of it.’
‘But I have my magical skin to protect me.’
The harling regarded Raven with some scorn. It seemed he believed Raven was mocking him.
‘That was a joke,’ Raven said. ‘But even so, I’m more than capable of protecting myself.’ He reached into a pocket and pulled out a glittering Almagabran coin. ‘You can have this if you show me the spirit window.’
‘All right,’ said the harling, getting to his feet.
‘Thanks.’ Raven helped himself to a shrimp before standing up.
The harling led them along the cliffs to where a path snaked upwards between brittle, salt-bleached shrubs. Raven asked the harling his name and received the short reply: ‘Taldri.’
The Freyhellan ran up the almost vertical path, Raven and Loki struggling to keep up. At the top, Taldri stood with hands on hips to wait for them. ‘It’s back here,’ he said. ‘Not far. It came where the water spout rises.’
The top of the cliffs was a
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